Family Poem by Rasma Haidri

From the window we watched the skunk mother

Waddle legless through our lawn.

She sniffed each blade, paused to grub.

Small versions of herself followed behind her tail plume.

Made jabs at the foliage. Trying to perfect

What mother had done.


On the porch, toads emerged

Like jags of field stone that had grown legs.

A crooked crawl then splat.

One big mother and four young.

It was not clear why they came.

There was nothing to eat.

Nothing to do but mingle in their small congregation.


Mother gathered us in the window

To watch these nocturnal goings on.

The garden residents like visiting kin

Admired for their good sense, their unity.


Those long southern evenings, neither the skunks nor the toads

Looked our way. No matter.

I could turn to mother's long hand on my shoulder.

Our small heads reflected in her wide gold ring.



(first published in Plainsong, Western Kentucky University Press,1991)